


Dead and Dangerous

by PurpleMoon3



Series: Thor Kinkmeme [1]
Category: Supernatural, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dean!Loki, Gen, Ghost!Dad, John is a BAMF, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMoon3/pseuds/PurpleMoon3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester may be dead, but he still looks out for his boys.  Even if one of them is the target of a god instead of a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead and Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> Fill For [Prompt](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8195.html?thread=17197315#t17197315)
> 
> Where Loki is reincarnated as Dean, and the rest of the Winchesters are not pleased with Asgard butting in on their family business.

John Winchester is many things. He is abrasive. He is old. He is a soldier and a hard ass. He is also protective and manic and stubborn and, most of all, he is dead. But of all the things John Winchester is, he is _not_ stupid. He always knew there was something special about his boy. Some reason the demon had come like a thief in the night to little Sammy's room and killed his wife.  
  
For a while John had blamed Mary, but when a Winchester feels something they feel it with all their being and when he loved her he couldn't _stop_ loving her. Now they're both dead, and death brings a sort of clarity all its own, and so John slips out of hell and slips out of the reapers' grasp and slips past a golden-eyed guardian because he may be dead but he hasn't stopped loving his boys.  
  
John Winchester, like all those of his line, is fiercely territorial.  
  
This may have contributed to the lack of babysitters Sam and Dean had growing up.  
  
John Winchester spent nearly a hundred years in Hell, torturing and being tortured, and he has collected a lot a rage to fuel his disquiet spirit. He materializes in the middle of a great throne room, appearing in his favorite leather coat and boots, layers of cotton flannel and worn working jeans. He crosses his arms, rage a tight fist, and _glares_ at the one-eyed man on the throne.  
  
"He's mine. Fuck off."  
  
The so-called gods of the room start whispering, a sorcerer is sent for, but John doesn't care. He knows the tricks of the trade. No ghost is more dangerous than the ghost of a hunter, and he was very good at what he did.  
  
"I know not what you speak of, spirit." The old king calmly states, hand gripping the not-iron spear that rests beside his throne.  
  
John blinks out of the visual spectrum and reappears by the arm of the throne. "Fuck you don't." He then notices the woman standing on the steps leading to the big ostentatious throne and nods politely. "Sorry for the french, ma'am."  
  
The doors burst open a blonde woman in green bustles in. "My King, I apologize-"  
  
John waves his hand and the woman with the stink of a witch about her goes flying back out the doors. A hush falls over the gathered deities as the old one-eye stands power begins to fill the room. John grins. He is already dead. He's done his time on the rack and off. There is nothing left for him to fear.  
  
"Let's get one thing straight, your lordship." John puts so much mocking and sarcasm into the address he knows his sons would be proud. "Dean is _my_ boy. _My_ blood. Whoever -whatever- he was before my wife fought and labored to bring him into the mortal world means jack shit. If I find out your boy's been bothering mine again, trying to fuck with his head and turn him into a _vessel_ or some shit… I'm already dead. _I died for my son._ So I got nothing left to lose.  
  
"Can you say the same?" As he finishes, John's gesture encompasses the room. Torches flare as his anger touches and licks at the wall. The ground rumbles with the force of it and as old men chant -some kind of banishment, John thinks- he laughs the kind of laugh that bubbles up from the belly and echos. He manages to crack a wall.  
  
Warning delivered, he vanishes himself just as a bolt of energy fly from the spearhead to the spot he just vacated. Let them think they won. Let them think their magics hold any sway over a human soul. It means they won't try to find any other ways.  
  
John is also a strategist, and if -when- the time comes to make good on his threat he'll have the upper hand.


End file.
